Darkness and Light
by Lockheart
Summary: Seifer, kind of introspective. Seifer/Quistis.


*looks around* Well... it's been some time since I was here. Anyway, it's torture time again. I bring to you... another fic! Yeah, that's pretty obvious. But anyway. Nothing much to be said, except that I whipped this together pretty quickly, so it might not be much. Mushy at the end; I still haven't got the hang of doing romance. I implemented it a bit too quickly... what can I say? Forgive grammar and spelling errors, please. 

R&R, okay? 

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Square. Blah. 

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Darkness and Light 

You were my salvation; my heart, my body, my soul, belonged to you. 

You were the angel of my catharsis, and together we would rise; together we would rule; together we would show the world that despised us, display our power and let them cower at our feet; curse in self-loathing as I once did. 

You were my queen; Hyne's princess. And I was your knight, the one standing beside you, protecting you, sharing your pain, sharing your glory. 

But no. 

You showed me your truth, you offered me the world. 

Greedily I drank in your poison, potent as it was fueled. 

Eagerly I embraced the possibilities, my vision growing wider in impracticality. 

But then, dreams are impractical. 

And I lived my dream, before it became a nightmare; before fantasy became horror. 

You gave me the chances; I prided myself on my cunning. 

I never realized that, while I thought I was one step in front of you, you were always three steps in front of me. 

Oh, we each played our own game of manipulation; each had our own little session of hide-and-seek with destiny. 

But I saw the world, and you saw the universe. 

Two roads diverged in a gold-coated wood. And I, I took the path of no return. 

Fools dream. 

Fools reach for the sky, desperately trying to wrap their hands around those ever-elusive stars, wanting, longing, hoping. 

Fools eventually fall, fall beyond the hands of the earth, slipping through crevices, plunging down chasms, still reaching for the sky. 

And fools... fools never realize it until they hit bottom. 

I was a fool, drowning myself in my naïveté. 

But for all my foolishness somehow Fate made an error, and pardoned me. 

Or perhaps... Fate didn't make a mistake. We are but fodder for the gods, after all. 

...I wasn't pardoned. 

I was punished. 

There can be little more painful than living with bloodstained hands, soaked in sin. Knowing your stupidity with startling clarity; regret doggedly thrashing at your mind. 

Knowing they were right, you were wrong, and you were responsible for so, so much. 

A cursed existence. 

And memories. 

Memories of sunshine-blond hair, a gentle smile on a delicate face, concealing remarkable strength and independence. Memories of the sharp crack of a whip, a firm voice instructing. 

Memories of opportunities lost, feelings suppressed and denied... 

Perhaps... It could end today. 

It would be quite easy, really, and to top it all off, I had a choice. 

The blade, or the painless way out. 

And I am torn. Even in death I am such a coward as to consider something other than living and dying by the sword. 

But no matter how much I curse myself, I know the truth - I'm scared. 

They would laugh now, if they saw me like this, and to tell the truth I am on the verge of hysteria. Seifer, scared. Never cut out to be SeeD, they would say. Shouldn't have tried; shouldn't have gone to Garden in the first place. Coward; loser; failure. 

Go home to your mommy. 

If only I could. But I don't have a mother, or a father, or anyone else. Fuujin and Raijiin, merely tagging along for the ride. Oh, they were gone now, ego bruised. Sent them away; harsh words can do wonders. 

Still, better that they go now than regret staying three years later. They'll see. 

I do now; hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Still, more cruel than kind; questions arise. The truth is, when you're in the action, when you're in the heat of it, wounded but still standing, you can't see it. 

I couldn't see it; they couldn't see for me. 

Now they can't see; I must see for them. It will last until they can see for themselves that the person they respected was no more than scum. 

Today. My nineteenth birthday, by rights. Oh, I'd forgotten it; birthdays weren't celebrated in Garden. It just wasn't done. 

But it's one of those things that you float around under the surface of your mind, then pops up unexpectedly to whack you in the face, sending you either into spurts of laughter in sheer irony, or bitter tears. 

I'd always thought it would be interesting to die on your birthday, so perhaps this had a sort of fittingness to it. 

Not the gunblade; I'm no longer a warrior. Vaguely I remember that five minutes ago I was considering it. But I realize with a jolt that I don't have the right to touch a weapon as sacred as this. Bad enough that I have dirtied it with my hands. No. 

I reach into the inside pocket of my trenchcoat and draw out a penknife. Pathetic, but it would do. What can I ask for, even now? 

Balamb is a lovely place; I wonder why I only realize it now. Sitting at the pier, the calm water ripples. The night sky is dark; distant lights cast furtive silhouettes onto the water. Perhaps it's my paranoia. 

Maybe it's just the fact that it's the last time I'll ever get to see it. 

I quickly push the sleeve of my coat up to my elbow and poise the blade of my penknife over my exposed left wrist, careful to place it directly over the vein. 

I close my eyes. Soon it'll all be over, and I welcome the time that that comes. Because all is lost now, for me. 

Abruptly a picture enters my mind, and I desperately try to chase it out. She's smiling. Her hair's pinned up as usual, and she's wearing her usual outfit. 

No! 

I can't afford to think like this. 

Steeling myself, my eyes still clamped shut, I start to bring the blade down. 

Only it never comes. 

I hear what seems like the crack of a whip, and my eyes fly open. Both hands are intact. But the shock relaxes my muscles, and the force of the whip sends it scuttling out of my hand, falling into the water with a tiny plop and splash. 

I watch the droplets of water before disbelievingly turning around. 

Almost immediately I am greeted with a furious hand connecting with the side of my face, hitting it ruthlessly. 

I look up into sapphire eyes. "...Quisty." 

"What the *hell* did you think you were doing?!" she rages, her voice trembling. 

Oh, I knew what I was doing. You didn't. Why on earth did you save me? 

"Are you just going to go on like that? Giving up? Are you that weak, Seifer Almasy?" 

She seems badly shaken, and in my surprise at her sudden tirade I fall silent, letting her speak. 

"How could you do that? Did you even consider what would happen if you died? Did you-" 

She shakes her head, unable to speak any longer, but now that opportunity presents itself for me to cut in, I find that I have nothing to say. 

"You can't die," she whispers. I feel a pang in my chest; she's crying. Tears are slipping down that porcelain face, and my breath catches in my throat. 

Don't cry, Quisty, you know I can't stand it when you do. 

But I can't say that, can I? 

With a shaking hand I reach up; it helps that I'm much taller than her, because she's standing and I'm sitting down. I have no idea what I'm doing; my mind and body are both numb. I'm not thinking, but maybe that's a good thing. My gloved fingers brush her tears away clumsily. 

My mind protests, but my body doesn't react. 

Somewhere inside of me a voice yells at me; rages at me. How could I touch her with my filthy fingers? 

She's crying even harder, and it's as if that penknife has risen from the waters to pierce my heart with a bloody vengeance. 

"You can't die..." she repeats, and idly I wonder why. Why can't I die? Don't I even deserve that? "...Don't leave me. Don't go..." 

And then she falls towards me, and instinctively I catch her. It feels right; but I feel wrong. 

"...Don't leave me..." 

Don't leave me? Me, leave her? I'm on dangerous ground, now, I know it. 

But temptation is so much harder to ignore when it's staring you in the face, and somehow I nod. I can't help but feel foolish; sitting here, none of my cocky demeanor, none of my defenses, just raw emotion. 

It hurts, but then, everything does. 

I panic for a few moments; I can't be doing this. 

But I am. 

At last she gets up, brushing herself off, and in the darkness, by the moonlight, I catch a faint tinge of red on her cheeks. 

Then, perfectly composed, she reaches out a hand to me. I realize that I'm still stupidly sitting on the wooden pier. 

She's smiling gently; that smile I've seen so many times, though I never once considered that she might ever look at me like that. 

Her hand, held out to me. For me. My hope. I just need to hold it. So close.... 

The Beauty saving the Beast. 

Her palm looks inviting, but I can't bring myself to accept it. I simply sit there, staring at it. 

A minute passes. Two. 

I keep staring. 

"...Seifer." 

I meet her gaze, and fall into pools soulful azure. 

"...I..." I hear myself say. 

She looks hurt; rejected; and takes a step back. "...I'm sorry," she murmurs before turning around, preparing to leave. 

She takes a step forward, and in that moment I realize that I am going to hate myself forever if I let her go. 

Nothing new. 

But I'll hurt her. The one person I cannot bring myself to hurt. 

Gods. 

She took another step; everything seemed to be in slow motion. 

And in one swift, fluid motion, I caught her wrist. 

She stopped; turned around again, looked at me disbelievingly. 

Still holding on, I get up, and move beside her. I start walking as my hand slides down to entangle my fingers in hers. 

She falls into step with me, though both our strides are hesitant. 

Still, we keep walking; the sound of our footsteps are rhythmic and somewhat soothing. Each step is taken methodically, but seems to lighten my heart slightly. 

I don't know where we're going; I don't care anymore. I don't need to know. 

Anywhere is fine with me, as long as she's there, walking beside me, holding my hand. 

It still hurts, but now I savor the pain. Let it hurt; it needs to hurt. The pain is comforting, as is the pressure on my palm. 

It's still dark, but perhaps-- perhaps the sun will rise soon. 

And so we keep walking. On and on. Perhaps not to eternity, but I can't think about eternity. All I know is now. And now she's here. 

It's a while before I realize that I'm smiling. 

-owari- 

Liked it? Review, please? 

Hated it? ...well... tell me, then! I know the characterization is terrible, the plot inexistent, parts stuck in too fast, and everything sticking out like a super-sore thumb, ended it to abruptly, but I'm a terrible writer... 

Well, thanks for reading, anyway.


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